Crecent Moons And Silver Stars
by joryuukage
Summary: A treaty made over 200 years ago has a drastic effect on Kagome's best friend. She had thought that the legend of the SnT was just a myth, a story Kagome made up while she was sick. Oh how wrong she'd been.


-1304-

"Call my son in here," the great lord of the west said, his voice low and steady; his face showed no emotion, rivaling that of the best poker players.

"Yes, milord," the servant answered him quickly, giving a low bow before rushing to perform the task asked of her. The girl could be no more than sixteen, her hair whipping about her as she ran to fetch him, eager to catch a glimpse of the handsome prince, even though his appearance perceived him to be younger than she was.

Moments later the heir of the western lands stepped into his fathers chambers, and gave Inu no Taisho a low bow. "You wanted to see me father?" he asked once he had righted himself, stonewall expression matching that of his fathers.

"Indeed," he said, "You know of the Magister's, do you not?"

Sesshoumaru nodded, "Yes, Father; we've been feuding with them for nearly a century now."

"Well it seems they have a new leader, and a smart one too."

Sesshoumaru nodded, the hint of approval in his father's voice surprising him. He knew all this however, and silently wondered as to why his father was telling him this again.

"The clan's leader has wisely decided to put an end to this ridiculous feud and make peace once again." Sesshoumaru felt his eyes widen; this was something he had not known, nor, he felt, would he have been informed of at all if his father hadn't told him. "All fighting is to cease immediately, however, nothing is, as of yet, official."

Sesshoumaru continued to look at the man before him, confusion lacing his features, cracking his unperfected mask. Unofficial? Why would anything be unofficial? He'd seen his father sign peace treaties before and wondered why anything would be so complicated where the others before it had seemed so simple?

His eyebrows drew together unconsciously, and he opened his mouth to ask his father a question.

"Composure," his father reminded him sharply, "Emotions are a weakness; show emotion and you give the enemy a tool."

"Right," he said, only vaguely wondering who could be counted as an enemy in the room; the servants had all gone, dismissed until his father called them back in, and only the two of them remained. The young prince pulled his face together, and asked his father, with an even, unemotional tone, "Father, what is it that you mean? Why is it not official?"

Inu no Taisho sighed, and suddenly, Sesshoumaru thought, he looked as many years as it was rumored he had lived. When he spoke, his tone was grave and serious, amplified even more so by his deep and steady voice, "My men are tired, Sesshoumaru. The Magister's use magic, and are human. They can heal faster than we can with their magical abilities, even with our demonic powers, They are able to kill our numbers swiftly, and even if we kill as many of their men as they have of ours it is of no use. Humans age quicker than we demons do, and therefore can have new troops assembled before we can even start to recuperate. Both parties, my son, want this truce."

Sesshoumaru shook his head. "I still do not understand, Father. If both parties want this truce, then why is it still unofficial?"

"The Magister's are smart people, but are too trusting. A foreign traveler told them of the demons in his country, described them as vicious, detestable creatures that crawl up from the depths of hell, waiting to manipulate the minds of humans. He told them too of the bonds feuding families sometimes make to put a stop to the senseless brutality; a pact made in blood. The head of each house selects someone to be married off into the other family; if he is a widower he sometimes selects himself, but if he is not he chooses one of his sons of daughters. The Magister's were taken with this idea, for reasons beyond my knowledge. Perhaps so that if may be something a bit more tangible than simply words on paper and a few signatures."

Sesshoumaru remained confused at first, then suddenly his eyes widened and he looked at his father as if he'd been slapped, recognition dawning on his face. "Father!" He yelled in outrage, "Surely you cannot be thinking of replacing mother already!"

Or not.

Sesshoumaru looked beyond angry, like a cat who'd just had a bucket of water splashed over it, and with good reason. Sesshoumaru, who's mother had died only two years ago, had loved his mother with a passion; loved every fiber of her being; from the gentle way she laughed and teased him always making him laugh at his own blunders, to the fierce temper he'd inherited from her, ready to spark up at any moment but rarely doing so.

His father regarded him with a shocked expression, but when he spoke his words were cool and measured. "No one," he said with almost a forced sort of evenness, "will ever replace your mother. And I do not speak of myself, Sesshoumaru, but of you. You will be the one married into their clan, in two hundred years time. You will have reached mating age well before that, but I feel you must experience the world more before you are to be tied down."

"Father! Me? Married? To a human no less! You cannot expect me to take a human as my mate!"

The demon lord gave his son a severe look, and when he spoke it was in a strict voice. "I do, Sesshoumaru. It is for the good of our lands, and its people."

"Father-"

"You will not defy me, Sesshoumaru!" He commanded in the same voice Sesshoumaru had heard him command whole armies with.

Sesshoumaru's cheeks flushed with an unchecked rage; of all the things he had inherited from his mother, he had not inherited her ability to keep his temper locked away when necessary. "Fine! I'll marry her! I'll marry the stupid wench-whoever it is you finally decide to pair me up with!" He turned on his heel, arms crossing as he did so, and stormed out of his father's chambers, silver hair flowing behind him like a flag.

"You will not walk out on me, you insolent whelp!" Inu no Taisho yelled as Sesshoumaru reached the doors.

He turned his head, glaring over his shoulder at his father, hand on the haft of the rice-paper doors. "Oh, yeah?" He asked sarcastically, molten pools of gold flashing with a cruel hatred and something else-a cold defiance of his father's will. "Watch me."

He slid the door open and stalked out, turning sharply to the right and grabbing his sword (which wasn't allowed in his father's chambers) from the servant he'd entrusted it to, without a moments pause, and headed to the training grounds-the long way, the short way would take him back past his fathers still open door, and he had no desire to let his father see how angry he had made him.

Sesshoumaru didn't know it, but he'd just done a rather convincing impression of a rebellious, _human_ teenager.

1488-

A fierce wail broke through the crisp, cold, dark December night.

"Welcome, child," a priestess said, cradling the babe in her arms, "to the land of the living."

A woman, no more than twenty, gripped her husband's hand, staring up at him with tears of joy in her eyes and a smile on her face. She let go and gathered her daughter into her arms, smiling gently down at her. The woman's brown eyes sparkled as the baby mewled, stretching out its arms. Her husband leaned down, and stroked his newborn's cheek, his green eyes matching his wife's.

"You have a lovely daughter," the priestess said, and they could only nod, at a loss for words.

A few days later, Sumi, the baby's mother, walked along through InuYasha's forest, without her fateful husband. Kindly, she had asked him to stay behind in the village, and he had complied, although grumpily.

Sumi smiled at her daughter, a lock of her raven hair falling over her shoulder. She had never told her husband of her ties in the Western Lands, of the strings that bound their daughter to a deal made nearly 200 years ago. Supporting her daughter with her left arm, she pulled from her obi a silver necklace.

"This," she whispered to her sleeping daughter, "should be proof enough." She slipped it around her daughter's small head, the necklace, made for an adult, rested over the blanket, the pendent that hung off the chain lying over her stomach.

The sound of rustling leaves caused her to turn, and then to gasp. There in front of her stood a demon; it's horrid yellow fangs dripping saliva.

Instinct took over and she fled in the opposite direction of the demon. She did not think to use her magic, as she was too weary from giving birth to do anything effective.

She ran through the trees, bramble tearing at her kimono, but she held her daughter to her chest, making sure no harm came to her. Sumi broke the line of trees, coming into a clearing, ivy covered well in the center.

Not a foot from it, the demon, growing tired with its chase, caught up with her, and swiftly ran its arm through her abdomen. She screamed, tripping as she did, her daughter catapulting out of her arms and down the well with a wail as she did so. For a moment, as Sumi lay limp on the lip of the dry well, her vision darkened, but it was enough to miss the mystical blue light the well emitted.

"My baby…!" Sumi choked out hysterically, blood pouring down her chin and winding around her front.

The demon chuckled darkly, extracted its arm from her, and disappeared.

"N-no…" Sumi whispered, looking down into the hopeless black depths of the well. Maki sobbed against the well, her energy draining from her as quickly as the blood did from her abdomen. Later she died, her own blood freezing her to that very spot.

Two years later Harou, Sumi's husband, devastated at his wife's and his daughter disappearance would commit suicide on the second anniversary of the day his world fell apart.

1981-

A 22-year-old Kim Higurashi stepped out into the crisp January 2nd air. Her daughter, born only a few months ago, slept soundly inside under her husband's watchful eyes.

_Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!_

Her brow furrowed, and she looked around for the source of the noise; it was the cry of a child, she was sure of it! But then where was the mother to comfort the child and sooth away the tears? Surely the child's parents hadn't left them here!

Her ears pinpointed the source and she trotted over, in the direction of the mini-shrine.

Shaking her head she walked over and slid the door open.

"Hello?" Kim asked, looking around.

There was no answer, and the crying continued.

Hesitantly, she took a step into the shrine. "Hello?" Only the persistent cry of the child answered her.

She walked down the steps, and blinked, suddenly noting the exact location. _'It's… coming from _inside_ the well?'_ She moved a piece of ply wood aside, unmindful of her father's 'sutra' that fluttered down into the old dry well and looked down. Vaguely, she could see a white bundle at the bottom.

She gasped, appalled. Someone had left their baby in the well!

Hastily, she moved aside the other bored, her maternal instinct kicking in. She grabbed the rope ladder, and quickly climbed down it.

"Shuuuuu," she cooed, picking the baby up and cradling it gently in her arms.

The baby quieted, and looked up at Mrs. Higurashi with wide, curious green eyes.

'What a peculiar color for a baby to have,' She thought, 'She must have a foreign parent,' 

"Where's your mommy, little one?" She asked.

The baby whimpered, apparently aware of her mother's fate. "Don't worry," she said with reassuringly, "I'll take care of you for awhile. Just until we can find your mommy."

The baby yawned, and snuggled deeper into her surrogate mother's arms, falling asleep. She smile fondly at the child's sleeping face and then looked up, wondering how she was to get out of the well.


End file.
